Of the songs that ‘sing themselves,’ Schubert has written many. We must mention ‘The Fisher,’ which is unusual in song literature as being a true ballad in strophe form; the ‘Heather Rose,’ which retains the quality of Goethe’s words in that it must be intimately known to be appreciated; _Wohin_, from the _Müllerlieder_, in which the tune seems to flow as inevitably as the brook which is the motive of it; ‘The Trout,’ the melody of which Schubert used as the theme of the last movement of his famous string quartet; and the ‘Lullaby,’ mentioned above. The flowing quality of these songs is due to the fact that they are closely in accord with the felt traditions of German music, containing a maximum of the usual and a minimum of the unusual, while remaining unique and creative as a whole. In other words, they have an abundance of the expected and nothing of the commonplace. And this is why it is of such extreme value for every musician to be familiar with a quantity of songs. Simple songs which are great in their human appeal have concentrated within themselves all that people throughout the centuries have agreed upon as beautiful. They contain in the simplest form the elements of all great complex music. The singer who can appreciate and love the simple song is not likely to go astray in singing the works of Strauss and Reger. But Schubert’s particular historic claim to greatness is his introduction of precise musical expression into the Song. This takes all forms--a variety as broad as his wonderful genius. In ‘Sea Calm’ it is a succession of quiet and slow chords, which preserve the evenness of the calm sea without its monotony. In ‘The Wanderer,’ it is a succession of slightly different emotions, each lyrically expressed, culminating in the impressive recitative. First the Wanderer announces that he has come from the mountains, ever searching for something. Then the lovely melody which Schubert later used in one of his quartets--the motive of unsatisfied wandering. Then, with a change of sentiment, comes the cause of the unrest--‘Where art thou, My Native Land?’--a mere snatch of rich song. Then a quick movement as the Wanderer sees in his mind’s eye the fresh greenness of his native hills. Then the moody wanderer’s motive once more. And finally the two lines of recitative--with all the beauty of poetry and all the force of prose--‘There, where thou art not, there is happiness.’